Tag: Gipsy Rufina

Gipsy, Kiel and Coco – A Story of musical synchronicity in Three Parts | Part 3: Coco and musical synchronicity

Part 3: Coco and Musical Synchronicity.

This is another series about synchronicity in music and synchronicity in threes. At the end of summer I was starting to get too far away from the feeling that the synchronicitous threes, rainbows and music had evoked. I was starting to treat writing about my musical encounters like a job, when music is really a calling to me. Music is calling to me and has been this whole year. One way or another. And that’s how it should stay, so I am documenting this to help me remember. 

In three simple nights, I am right back to where it started in March. I feel the surge of my purpose, the burn of why this all came along my path when it did, and the love for the music and artists and all the Purple People in their entourage. With music as my spirit guide, to lead me on a new path in life. The Purple thread I follow along the road to the best version of my self. 

In Part one, we find ourselves in The Black Flamingo.
In Part two, we spend some time at De Floeren Aap.
In this third and final part I am on the sofa, watching the movie Coco.

I’m writing this all down so I can finally learn to remember to never forget. Because it is so easily forgotten. I am posting this from a place where I am on the brink of having forgotten again. Where I can barely believe the words I have written here myself. Where all I want to do is shut out the world entirely. I am desperately retraining my mind to latch onto the positives as eagerly as it embraces the negatives. Searching for an upward spiral of sorts, away from the abyss. So here goes.

Around the time of Gipsy & Kiel’s tour, there is a lot going on in my life all at the same time. Life usually is a bit messy at the best of times, but this period contains a combination of stressors which make it even more difficult. Part of that mess is the fact that it is September, and almost a year ago that I had lost my father to a devastating disease. Remembering the feelings from sitting by his sickbed, seeing him turn into a shadow of his former self is weighing me down. During the year I had found him looking on in the musical synchronicity, which had helped me tremendously in my grieving process. 

I was starting to lose the connection. In the turmoil I found myself in, I started to roll back into old habits and feelings of hopelessness. I was still bathing in the music, revelling in its beauty. But I lost track of what had been the most important about it, what it actually signified. The hope of another life, another me who was strengthened and lifted up by the music as a sort of harness against the perils of the world. I still felt the beauty, but no longer the surge of strength it brought me. I could feel myself slipping away again in all the wrong coping strategies. 

I’d nearly hit bottom again. I was losing myself in grief, sadness and anger and could feel my sense of self become smaller again. After another awful day where the feelings of helplessness and hopelessness prevailed, everything inside me was screaming to stay in and shut myself away from the world. But I didn’t, I forced myself to go against that feeling and I went to The Black Flamingo instead. I let myself drift on the waves of music that Gipsy and Kiel brought with them. I got to feel that warm hug of those Purple people around me again. (And that one guy, but you know, sometimes it takes something appalling to let the good shine out even more. I was intently protected from his aura of awful by those around.)

It didn’t really sink in until the show on Monday though. I’d felt my dad there again, in The Black Flamingo. In the music. I heard it again in de Floeren Aap. He would have absolutely loved Gipsy Rufina and Kiel Grove. While hanging out with Ann we were talking each others ears off about just about anything. And it hit me, these are the types of people I need in my life. Full of positive energy, dreams and crazy life plans. Full of an all consuming LOVE and ADORATION for things. Around people like this, I don’t have to put bits of myself away. I don’t have to wear a mask or pretend, I get to wear my heart on my sleeve, where it should be! Somewhere the conversation turned to the tattoo Ann had of Dante, the dog from Coco. I had been contemplating watching that movie again because I was thinking of my dad and all those who went before him.

When the day of the third Gipsy/Kiel show came and my body screamed at me to give it some rest, I decided to give in to self care and self comfort. With a blanket and cat at the ready, I put on Coco and floated away in a world of music and colour. 

It underlined everything I have lived and learned through music since March. A story of a grieving process through finding myself again, finding my way to my people again and with music as a giant Purple thread throughout all of it. Coco is all about honouring your dead and speaking their name. It’s about destiny. Of going against the grain, about not just following the road of what is expected of you. About a belief in yourself that you cannot let go.  

Music is part of my destiny, in one form or another. Music as the fuel for my words and art. Music as a life force driving me from one place to another, discovering the world and its people. Music as a form of therapy, mindfulness and anti-depressant. In making it myself eventually. (Though I have still yet to successfully form or keep a band.) It’ll always be there alongside of me, in one form or another. I need to keep seeing it, feeling the fuel of it. 

My road seems riddled now with little reminders to it. At the end of the month, the day of the wild Bridge City Sinners gig, I am on a group outing. Suddenly, I am surrounded by the colour and wonder of Coco in this Dia de Los Muertos decor.

I smile and walk through it. Putting in my earbuds and FEELING the music that is playing. I want and NEED to learn to keep my eyes and ears open for these reminders of the beauty. It’s so easy to miss it all in the overwhelm when your senses get glazed over by the mist of darkness.

So I am leaving this note here. As a light, a shining beacon of how it can be, if I remember to REALLY see.

0

Gipsy, Kiel and Coco – A Story of musical synchronicity in Three Parts | Part 2: Gipsy and Kiel play De Floeren Aap

Part 2: Kiel Grove an Gipsy Rufina live @ De Floeren Aap, Mechelen| Monday, September 11th 2023

This is another series about synchronicity in music and synchronicity in threes. At the end of summer I was starting to get too far away from the feeling that the synchronicitous threes, rainbows and music had evoked. I was starting to treat writing about my musical encounters like a job, when music is really a calling to me.
Music is calling to me and has been this whole year. One way or another.
And that’s how it should stay, so I am documenting this to help me remember.
 
In three simple nights, I am right back to where it started in March. I feel the surge of my purpose, the burn of why this all came along my path when it did, and the love for the music and artists and all the Purple People in their entourage.
With music as my spirit guide, to lead me on a new path in life.
The Purple thread I follow along the road to the best version of my Self.

In Part one, we find ourselves in The Black Flamingo.
In Part two, we spend some time at De Floeren Aap:

Because Jo had been so empathic about just how Purple he thought Gipsy was, I was pretty sure attending a second date of this tour would by no means be a waste of my time. So when I received an excited message from Ann inviting me to the shows, (Whom I’d met at the James Hunnicutt & WhiskeyDick tour back in June.) I didn’t hesitate for a second.

The fact that two very Purple people around me were pointing me simultaneously and independently in the same musical direction, was a surefire sign I was in for something special. The fact that the tour was passing through de Floeren Aap in Mechelen was an added bonus, since spending time in my home town is always a treat. 

After a short bike ride on a hot summer night, I arrive at the city centre and excitedly walk over to the table where Ann is sitting with her husband David. Even though we barely had a full conversation at the James Hunnicutt shows, it feels like sitting down with old friends. We immediately get to chatting about music and fire some recommendations this way and that. Some more Purple souls called Natasha & Pablo join the company at the table and the conversation swings into an oddly fluent and fluid mix of Dutch and English, which makes me feel even more at home.

Eventually both Kiel & Gipsy also join the party before deciding who’s going to open tonight via a game of rock paper scissors. The mix of English and Dutch gets complemented by a conversation in which Gipsy speaks Italian & Pablo answers in Spanish. I feel like I’m on holiday in my own city, locked away in this hidden square right near the bustling centre of town. It’s the language of music that brings people together.

Eventually we shuffle into The Floeren Aap, to the best spot in the house, just as Kiel takes the stage first. Now, even though I was better prepared having lived through one of his sets already and was aware of what I was about to encounter, my notes still reveal a general lack of accurate terms to describe Kiel Grove. I can’t. I seriously cannot. I tried to pinpoint it in my post about his passage in The Black Flamingo, but it still doesn’t seem to do it justice. The way he sort of plays and sings his tunes is pretty damn unique. 

I am again enthralled by his storytelling skills and even though I heard some of the tales before at the Flamingo, I am still just as transfixed in listening as I was just a few days ago. I’m not even going to try to retell them, you’ll just have to discover them for yourself when Kiel next crosses the ocean for a tour in these parts. I decided to capture some of the pre-song banter to give a better idea of the Kiel Grove experience. Again, the video vibe is nowhere near the real deal but it should give some impression on the spellbinding narration and wizardry on the guitar. 

At this point I also want to point out that this is the 15th consecutive day these guys have been playing on their 21 day European tour. Can you imagine the general weariness you’d feel on a near month long tour of driving and playing every day in the sweltering summer heat? And it doesn’t show one bit in neither of their playing. Such is the life of the troubadour that it actually seems to only get better as the days go by. Of course, playing every day could also be seen as very good practice, which in any case really shows in the skilful way they both run through their setlists with ease. 

After a break for some somewhat cooler outside air and the petting of local dogs, (Kiel is clearly missing his four legged friend on tour, but is making do with love for other people’s pets while on the road. My kinda people!) it is time for set two.

We’re in for some more Gipsy magic starring that bewitching banjo and enchanting voice. I sit there completely entranced watching him pick at his instruments, his hands a blur in the process. The spell is only broken when, between songs, I hear the voices from the terrace outside. I write down that I cannot understand how you can bear to stay outside for this. How that music doesn’t draw those people in like moths to a flame. How they seem to be able to strike up casual conversations while this is happening in the foreground.

The only cover Gipsy plays on the tour, but WHAT a discovery for me. I’m in immediate love with this song.

Maybe it’s just something in my constitution but I barely register people talking to me while this set is ongoing. Good music can never be in the background to me. Limited as my attention span may be, there is just something about good live music that seems to completely sweep me away from the perils of this mortal coil. I float in a gentle world between worlds, where my body is present in the present, but my soul is somewhere off dancing to the music and feeling its warm embrace. 

Me, Natasha, Pablo & Gipsy at de Floeren Aap

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end, but even when the musical instruments are put away, I’m still halfway in that magical dreamland. We grab another table at the terrace and I vaguely remember trying to voice to Kiel & Gipsy how lovely I thought the experience was. We chat some more about musical influences and horror movies that are so bad they’re good again, and I leave with a bag of recommendations I still need to check out. (After a few blurry selfies to commemorate the night of course.)

I made a plan to see them one more time on that tour, which unfortunately fell through because my body decided too much is enough. In the last part of this story, I sadly spend that night at home, resting my weary bones and mind. Thanks to the engaging conversation with Ann however, the musical synchronicity of that night would still play on. (Within this picture you can already see a hint towards part 3 of this series!)

Ann & Me at de Floeren Aap
Ann & Me at de Floeren Aap

Follow Kiel Grove

Follow Gipsy Rufina

Follow De Floeren Aap

0

Gipsy, Kiel and Coco – A Story of musical synchronicity in Three Parts | Part 1: Gipsy and Kiel play The Black Flamingo

Part 1: Gipsy Rufina and Kiel Grove live @ The Black Flamingo, Nijlen | Saturday, September 8th 2023

This is another series about synchronicity in music and synchronicity in threes. At the end of summer I was starting to get too far away from the feeling that the synchronicitous threes, rainbows and music had evoked. I was starting to treat writing about my musical encounters like a job, when music is really a calling to me.
Music is calling to me and has been this whole year. One way or another.
And that’s how it should stay, so I am documenting this to help me remember.
 
In three simple nights, I am right back to where it started in March. I feel the surge of my purpose, the burn of why this all came along my path when it did, and the love for the music and artists and all the Purple People in their entourage.
With music as my spirit guide, to lead me on a new path in life.
The Purple thread I follow along the road to the best version of my Self.

In Part one, we find ourselves in The Black Flamingo:

As loyal readers might already know, Black Flamingo Jo and I have an uncannily similar taste in music. When he told me a few months ago I NEEDED to be at The Black Flamingo for Gipsy Rufina, I took his words as gospel, as I tend to do these days. I didn’t need to listen to the music in advance, I blindly trust Jo’s judgement in who he programs on his stage. Plus, I am loving discovering it all live before I dive into the recorded bits. He told me all about how Gipsy has been touring for nearly 20 years and how he was probably the last remaining troubadour. *TRIGGERED* 

What Jo failed to mention however, was that it was to be a double bill with Kiel Grove. I get a feeling Jo likes to keep some aces up his sleeve on purpose, just to keep me on my toes. Remember how he didn’t tell me about James Hunnicutt and how well that turned out? I had a very similar experience discovering Kiel Grove. (Despite them being very different in sound and energy.) These are the kind of surprises I don’t mind on my path at all. 💜 Anyway, whereas I was already extremely excited for the night, I was yet again NOT AT ALL prepared for what was to come all the same. I’m still not sure if I can find the right words to describe these two astonishing artists, who’ve got music coursing through their very souls.

Driving up to The Black Flamingo is like arriving in a little paradise, hidden away from the big bad world. I make friends with some locals who are curious about what is going on in that shed up yonder. I get to pet their ancient dog Duck before running in, with my very Rock & Roll sitting donut in hand. One benefit of having a sore tailbone (and no longer giving a fuck if I look Rock & Roll) is that I get to throw that thing down, and go off to talk Jo’s ear off while still retaining the best seat in the house. We talk about all the music we still want to hear, some crazy musical road trip plans and all the Black Flamingo line-ups we still want to achieve.

The music draws me to my seat but alas, as it was just the soundcheck I was a little early to arrive. I get talked at by HE WHO SHALL NOT BE NAMED. I am not sure what the opposite of Purple is, but it was clear that this person was SO out of place in this safe haven of music. I will spare you the details of the conversation, only that I was getting gradually more angry at him for being generally disgusting and not taking some very clear no’s for an answer. (Don’t worry, my great pack of Purple People protectively separated me quickly from this waste of space and it’s safe to say he shall never return.)

The first notes of Gipsy finally brought sweet relief from the sexist pig and his persistence in offering up his ‘services’. *shudder* As you can tell by the above picture, taken by Jo and graciously adorned with a very broad vignette blur, my disgust was quickly replaced by my customary ear to ear smile. The contrast in atmosphere couldn’t be more stark once I get to focus on the beautiful music.

Oh deary me. I spot a banjo and my heart starts to race. One expertly fingered strum and the sound is making everything else disappear around me. This is why we’re here. To lose ourselves in the music. Were there still other people around me? There must have been? I can no longer be sure as I close my eyes and am one with the music. “I’m going to play some banjo for you, if you don’t mind.” No, I most certainly don’t mind Gipsy, I’ve been waiting for it.

This is where I fervently draw an arrow to further on in my notes where I write “And we definitely don’t mind when you play it like that!” The sound he draws from that banjo is unreal, it’s like there’s a full band on stage. He goes crazy on his pedals and the distortion makes it sound extraordinary. He swiftly moves around every square inch of his beautiful instrument and hits every fret, chord and note like magic. I’ve seen many a banjo played expertly over the last couple of months, but this is something else. Meanwhile he brings out a harmonica and seems to be playing fifteen notes at once. It is mind-blowing, it is sensational.

And his voice? What a fucking marvellous instrument it is in its own right. It is raw, hoarse and heavy but gentle at the same time. Just how I’d imagined a troubadour to sound like. As he brings out his guitar, he starts to tell the story of Viola, a brigand who fought the pope. The story was passed on to him by his grandma, about the man who lived in the mountains 200 years ago. As Gipsy (aka Emiliano) starts to sing the song in his native Italian dialect, you can hear the indrawn breaths. For the next couple of minutes you can hear a pin drop as everyone listens completely captivated. My video does that song or the experience no justice at all. Much like my words fail to honour this experience. 

Purple doesn’t BEGIN to describe it. We have to come up with another colour to define this. Maybe Terry Pratchett’s octarine, the colour of magic, comes closer in describing the aura that Gipsy Rufina exudes. I am in love with the music, the songs, the words, the songs (I wrote this down twice, this is not a typo) and that voice. I am usually a woman of many words, but this performance left me actually wordless. I pick myself up out of the puddle on the ground I have become, and venture out into the cool night air to compose myself.

I have to drag myself back in because I’m about to miss Kiel Grove’s first song. There’s something special starting here. After being absolutely mesmerised by Gipsy Rufina’s performance, I thought anything that followed would never be able to compare or hold up against that set. I couldn’t be more wrong, because here I am again just completely transfixed and blown away by the first few notes floating off the stage. They’re entirely different musicians in both style and approach, different vibes as a person, (though both very much shaded Purple) but it feels like they were made to perform in tandem.

I am trying to place Kiel in the music he resembles or triggers memories of in my head. At one point in my notes, I place him somewhere between WhiskeyDick & James Hunnicutt and I also compare his storytelling to the infamous Johnny Cash. But really, Kiel Grove is incomparable. His voice is hypnotic, drawing you in with that delightful Texas accent and that deep dark timbre with some peculiar but delicious tone inflections. I could listen to him talking and singing all night, narrating the stories that he has gathered like little treasures from life on the road. The stories and songs are sometimes nonsensical, whimsical and funny, but always intriguing and delivered with a deadpan expression. 

His guitar playing is also something else. He seemingly effortlessly gets a sound from his instrument which I can’t believe can just come from one bit of wood and strings. It somehow feels like there’s an invisible band around him, adding in some resonance and background. I see ONE man with ONE guitar, but I hear the soul of so much more sound. He deftly picks and plucks his strings, tells his stories and produces something indescribable.

Seeing the total package of a Kiel Grove performance is like being thrown back in time and I feel like the sofa I’m on could just as well have been placed in the mud at Woodstock. It feels like there’s echoes from a time long past interwoven in the music, almost like it doesn’t fit in this modern time. Almost, because I absolutely welcome the anachronistic feel of the web of musical muses from the past he weaves into his songs.

After Kiel’s performance I finally found some of my words to talk to both artists and briefly compliment their sets. I have no idea what I told them because it felt like being on another planet and I still didn’t have any idea how to describe what just happened to me during those two sets. I fear I still can’t fully process it all. This is an account of events, but by no means a full one. All I know is, if I ever get a chance to see these wordsmith troubadours again, I will not hesitate one moment. 

I hang around the aura of awesome and get to talking to Ronny, who is as impressed as I am about what happened tonight. Turns out he is also in a band called Promise Down, who’d also played The Black Flamingo in January. Unfortunately, I was not yet aware of that piece of promised land in Nijlen at that point in time, so I had sadly missed their show that sounded really good looking back. I make a mental note to put them on my musical radar and promise Ronny to come see them soon!

After some more catch up chats with Purple Flamingoes I finally drive home smiling like crazy, a little stupefied, and a lot drunk on (love for) music.

Luckily for me, I already have the next Gipsy & Kiel tourstop circled in my calendar, which you’ll discover soon in part 2 of this series!

Follow Gipsy Rufina

Follow Kiel Grove

Follow The Black Flamingo

0

(Re)make myself.

White Fluffy Clouds

A promise to no longer be my own worst enemy. A story about neurodivergence and acceptance in three songs.

I got my ADHD diagnosis last year at the ripe ‘old’ age of 36. In learning more about it, a LOT finally started to make sense. Why the life I was building for myself never really seemed to fit me. Why I never seemed to reach my own potential. However, there was still a puzzle piece missing. I got tested for both ADHD & Autism Spectrum Disorder at the same time. I had become so adept at masking myself, I did not get diagnosed as being on the spectrum. In subsequently talking to people, and reading up about autism and neurodivergence, I realised that diagnosis was wrong. I am both autistic and have ADHD. All those little quirks and difficulties I experienced all through life suddenly became one of two. The constant battle in my head between order and chaos was suddenly very clear. 

My life was made of masks, one for every occasion. First I hid my true self away, out of fear of not being accepted. Of being seen as weak. Of being perceived as weird. Of being thought of as a failure. Of being known as difficult. I became the person I thought I should be, not the person I actually was. It was a recipe for disaster. I was a ticking time bomb waiting to erupt. Last year I finally learned why everything always seemed SO much harder for me. Life in general, school, work and interpersonal relationships. 

But when I learned about, and started to accept and work around my (self)diagnosis as AuDHD, that became a mask in and of itself. I started to apologise for myself and my way of thinking about things and my way of doing things because of what those disorders meant to me. I have ADHD so I must be LOUD and OBNOXIOUS, SORRY. At the same time I am autistic, but because I am such a LOUD AND OBNOXIOUS ADHD’er, I didn’t feel like I had the right to claim the space, peace and tranquillity I needed. It was a constant struggle with myself and not in the least, with the people around me. 

This year, right around the time I was rediscovering myself in the music and the words, I started group therapy in a clinic near me. I am so unbelievably grateful for having found that path. In the last three and a half months I have learned SO much about myself and moreover, myself in the world around me. It has been challenging and confronting at every turn. But I am slowly learning to understand myself and treat myself with the same compassion and empathy with which I approach other people. It’s a process with big ups and downs, but it is so unbelievably rewarding.

It really should not have come as such a surprise to me that I am my own worst enemy. I make life so much harder on myself by trying to do everything right. For myself, but especially for those around me. I adapted a mask very early on, hid myself away and pretended to be strong for years. Because I thought that was helping those around me, not having to worry about me and the dark abyss I was tumbling into. In reality, by pretending to be made of stone, I continued the fallacy that we should all be made of granite. That there is no room for us to crumble, even just a little. 

I am now slowly learning that vulnerability is a strength and not a weakness. How it’s okay to not be okay. And how in showing and talking about my own struggles, others learn to find the words to describe their fragility and pain as well. There is beauty in recognition and unity in commiseration. We all struggle with things, why not struggle together? A sorrow shared is a sorrow halved. Because in sharing and commiserating, we can all grow together.

This blog started as a simple foreword to a piece about music. I was going to write about finding synchronicity in music again thanks to two shows by Gipsy Rufina & Kiel Grove. (Don’t worry, I WILL get to them!) How reconnecting with Ann, whom I met at the James Hunnicutt & Whiskey Dick gigs, led me to watch Coco again and what that meant to me in this dark September month. But the foreword developed a mind of its own and turned into this. It was meant as a sort of apology to all the bands and artists I promised my words to over the last couple of months. But in letting loose and just following the words, I realise I have nothing to apologise for.

There’s something to be said for continuity and following the precise sequence of events. It’s nice and neat and comprehensible. (Some might even call it Nice & Accurate!) It is expected. I’m usually a stickler for doing things by the rules. It brings order to my disorderly brain. But I keep losing myself in trying to do everything perfectly. In thinking more of what my actions (or inactions) might signify to others, than in realising how hard those thoughts are weighing ME down.

I am trying to break away from that to preserve my own sanity and build myself back up in the best way possible. So I don’t get burnt out from the thing that was curing my burnout. So for now I am done following the rules and promises I made in my head, because they were preventing me from telling the stories. 

From now on the stories will be posted as they present and write themselves in my head. The stories recorded during this magical, musical summer (and beyond) WILL get told with all the love I felt while experiencing it. But in their own time, in my time.

Here’s to chaos and anarchy. Here’s to doing things my way. 

RESIST. UNLEARN. DEFY.

An aside about the songs: The three songs in this blog are by a band that has a very special significance to me. Remember that message board I wrote about in my last blog on Terry Pratchett? Well, it was called Incuboard and was dedicated to Incubus. Sort of, anyway. I met some very special people there and I still remember that period very fondly. I lost track of the band a little around when they brought out Light Grenades. But I will never lose track of their previous albums and songs. They helped make me who I am to this day. They ring as true now, as they did back then.

I subconsciously chose three songs off the same album Make yourself. This was not planned, even though the title of this blog was inspired by the title song from that album. Synchronicity I guess. In threes, as always. The cover picture is inspired by a lovely art book the singer made, called White Fluffy Clouds. His art very much inspired my own. The piece below was my vague interpretation of the cover art of his book.

0

Create a website or blog at WordPress.com

Up ↑